


Simple as falling

by Nary



Category: Rome
Genre: Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Come Swallowing, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Power Imbalance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:17:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4160145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Jupiter's balls, Vorenus, you stink like a pack mule," Antony continued.  "If you don't bathe immediately, I'm going to have six slaves hold you down and douse you until the water runs clear.  Get. In. Here."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple as falling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merle_p](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merle_p/gifts).



Vorenus missed many things about Rome, but particularly the baths. There was something peculiar about the Egyptian baths, unwholesome. If he were honest with himself, they weren't so very different - after all, the Romans built baths in their own style wherever they conquered. It was only that here the air was too hot, the soaps and lotions smelled wrong, and the baths were full of Egyptians. Besides, the slaves were forever trying to pluck and prod a man when he just wanted a good, honest strigiling. As a consequence, he bathed less, sweated more, and felt as disgusting as he'd ever felt outside of a battlefield. 

No doubt it didn't help that he refused to adopt Egyptian-style clothing, which would have been more suited to the climate. Antony often pestered him to discard his grimy wool tunic, but he resisted stubbornly. "The clothing here is indecent," he protested. "I'll keep my uniform, thank you very much." 

Antony had no such compunctions. The clothing he was currently having removed by obsequious slaves was Egyptian through and through - what little of it there was, Vorenus thought, since it mainly consisted of a wrap of linen and some gold jewelry. Once he was disrobed, he slid into the hot water with a groan of pleasure. Vorenus simultaneously envied and scorned his commander as he rinsed perfumed oils from his hair and kohl from his eyes. 

"Join me, Vorenus," Antony offered once again, and gestured for the slave with the pitcher to pour more wine. Vorenus had lost count of how much he'd had, but Antony was in the stage of drunkenness that led him to make extravagant plans and then usually fail to follow through on them. He was expansive, cheerful, hedonistic in such moods, but Vorenus knew how quickly they could shift to fury, or to self-pity and maudlin reminiscences. It was better not to trifle with Antony at such moments, but still he hesitated. 

"Jupiter's balls, Vorenus, you stink like a pack mule," Antony continued. "If you don't bathe immediately, I'm going to have six slaves hold you down and douse you until the water runs clear. Get. In. Here."

Vorenus knew an order when he heard it. Besides, he couldn't remember when the last time was he'd had a proper bath, as opposed to just rinsing himself with a bowl of water and a sponge. He shrugged off the slaves who immediately swarmed around him, trying to assist him with disrobing. He wasn't some soft, pampered courtier who needed help lacing his own sandals. "Get away from me," he snapped at one particularly insistent specimen, who retreated to a safe distance with his tunic.

"Leave the fool be if he doesn't want your help," Antony instructed them. "In fact, you can all get out of here." The slaves made a hasty retreat, knowing that to hesitate in obeying Antony's orders could result in having things thrown at them, or worse. Vorenus wasn't sure if having the bath chamber to themselves was an improvement - now all of Antony's attention was focused on him. He could feel the other man's eyes on him as he disrobed, but still took his time, unwilling to let himself be rattled by that gaze.

Vorenus sank into the bath and let out an involuntary sigh as the hot water closed around him. It did feel blissful, and for just a moment, closing his eyes, he could almost forget where he was, and why he was here, and everything that had gone wrong, everyone that he had lost, to bring him to this point. He submerged himself completely, and contemplated just staying there where nothing hurt, only rising again when he could no longer withstand the fierce aching of his lungs. 

Water trickled down his face in streams as he sat back, only to find Antony staring at him with that familiar half-smirk. "No drowning yourself in my bath," he said. 

"I'm rinsing off," Vorenus retorted sullenly. "As ordered, sir."

Antony laughed and reached for his wine again, stretching out his legs and leaning back comfortably. Vorenus preferred him like this, away from the courtiers and the queen, kohl washed from his face, though he'd never say it. It made him think of older times, simpler times before they'd come to this strange, foreign place. 

"The problem with sending the slaves away," Antony noted casually, "is that now I don't have anyone to scrub my back. Well, aside from you, Vorenus." 

All right, so things weren't simple. Maybe they never had been, and it was only the haze of memory that made them seem so. Vorenus scooped up a sponge and waded across the bath to where Antony waited. Even though it wasn't the first time they'd seen each other unclothed, he still felt especially exposed. "You'll have to turn around, sir," he said awkwardly.

"If I had a denarius for every time I've heard that, I'd be a wealthy man," Antony mused, sitting up and turning so that his arms rested on the edge of the bathtub. "Wait, I _am_ a wealthy man."

Vorenus resisted the urge to dwell on the more sordid implications of that statement. Instead, he soaked the sponge in the hot water and began washing his commander's back. He scrubbed briskly, thinking that maybe he could get this over with more quickly, but no such luck. "Gods, Vorenus, you're not trying to scrape barnacles off my hull," Antony complained, his voice muffled as his head rested against his arms. "Are you this rough with that whore of yours?"

He hadn't thought Antony knew about that, but apparently word got around. "She's not mine," he said evenly. No matter how much he pretended, or what lies his dreams told him, she wasn't Niobe. 

Antony shrugged, the muscles in his back shifting. He was still fit, Vorenus thought, despite the soft living here, despite getting older. Would it be enough, though, if he did need to go into battle again one day? Vorenus wondered how each of them had come to this point. 

"There are other services I normally have one of the slaves provide," Antony murmured, craning his neck to look at Vorenus through heavy-lidded eyes. 

"So call them back," Vorenus said, lowering his arm to his side. "You know they're just standing outside the door waiting." And listening, he thought but didn't add.

"Mmm, but I don't want to," Antony replied, turning to face him, as stubbornly petulant and self-centered as a child. "I want you instead."

"I'm not your slave," Vorenus pointed out, tacking on a belated "sir". 

"That makes it all the more enjoyable," said Antony, running a hand up his wet thigh. "You have a choice."

Vorenus sighed, letting Antony continue to fondle him. Any choice he had was merely an illusion. Maybe it had always been that way. He groaned under his breath when Antony took his cock in hand, surprised and yet unsurprised at how quickly he responded to that touch. Knowing that Antony could easily bend him over the edge of the tub and fuck him, and there would be nothing he could do to stop it, made it all the more poignant when instead the famous general, a consul of Rome, a triumvir, one of the most powerful men in the world, bent to suck his cock.

"Sir," he tried to get out, "you don't need to..."

"Shut up," Antony came off him long enough to say. "Just... let me do this, and then you can go." He sounded weary, and there was an unaccustomed desperation in his eyes as he looked up. He gripped Vorenus' thigh hard enough to leave bruises.

"I only meant," Vorenus stammered, "you don't need to... to lower yourself like this, to me."

"Of everything I've done, you're worried that _this_ might be lowering myself too far?" Antony laughed, wrapping his hand around the base of Vorenus' cock, which twitched involuntarily in response. "I still have leagues to fall." With that, he took Vorenus' cock into his mouth once more, and there was nothing the soldier could think to say in response, if he'd even been able to speak.

Antony had a tongue as skilful as any whore, and Vorenus could close his eyes and pretend for a moment that this wasn't what it seemed. When he couldn't help thrusting forward into his commander's mouth, he felt a surge of worry that he'd gone too far, but Antony only gasped and swallowed him further. In an embarrassingly short time, Vorenus felt himself start to shudder. He tried to warn Antony by grabbing his shoulder, but that only seemed to encourage him. Helpless, Vorenus ejaculated into his mouth with a hoarse cry. Antony stayed there a few moments longer, then settled back, licking his lips.

"You can go, Vorenus."

Knees wobbling, Vorenus sat down beside him with a splash. "No, sir, apparently I can't," he managed to say.

Antony gave him a sidelong look. "If you insist on staying, then give me your hand." 

Vorenus didn't resist as Antony repositioned himself to straddle his hips, his erection jutting out of the water. He didn't complain when Antony guided his hand to slide down the wet skin of his stomach, and he curled his fingers around his cock without needing to be shown what to do. It was simple, he though, simple as falling. He rubbed his thumb over Antony's head and felt him tremble. He couldn't bring himself to look up at his face, so instead he focused his attention on the task at hand, stroking resolutely along that stiff length. It was only when Antony reached down and stroked his damp hair, cradling the side of his face, that Vorenus had to bite his lip to keep from turning to kiss that callused palm. It wouldn't do to show himself so weak, so needy. 

He could tell by the increasing urgency of Antony's moaning that it wouldn't be long now. A few more quick, rough strokes, and the general spattered his chest with his seed. Vorenus looked down, uncertain whether he ought to be ashamed or proud or something else entirely. He settled for saying, "I'll clean that up." The sponge was still nearby, and it was only the work of a moment to have himself wiped clean, every trace of their indiscretion washed away as though it had never happened. 

Antony stepped out of the tub, stretching as he dripped puddles onto the tiled floor and called for his slaves to come and dry him and oil him. Vorenus stood, following him more slowly. "Where's my tunic?" he asked, looking around.

"I imagine the slaves have had it burnt by now," Antony told him as the cluster of Egyptians hurried to tend to them. "That thing was foul."

"Well, what am I supposed to wear?"

"Don't worry, I'm sure they can find you another one. But for now..." He gestured, and one of the slaves produced a length of fine linen. "When in Egypt, Vorenus."

Vorenus stifled a protest and grudgingly permitted himself to be swaddled and wrapped in the thin fabric. He had to admit it felt better - but that didn't mean he had to like it.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [naryrising](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/naryrising) if you want to ask questions, make requests, or chat!


End file.
